


Soft Kitty

by sunshinetina



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Kid Fic, Kid Sherlock, M/M, kids!Sherlock, kidslock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-01
Updated: 2012-06-01
Packaged: 2017-11-06 12:50:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/419106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunshinetina/pseuds/sunshinetina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kid!Sherlock has a cold and is pretending he is a cat. There comes Kid!John, taking care of his friend. Another small ficlet inspired by the incredible art of 'thebritishteapot' on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soft Kitty

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This small ficlet is inspired by the fabulous art of ‘thebritishteapot’ on tumblr, in particular, this one: http://thebritishteapot.tumblr.com/post/20354867607/soft-kitty

Stupid Mycroft. I would like to say that Mummy is stupid too but I love her way too much to say this. She is not stupid. She is just... Mummy. All mothers are like that. Mrs Watson even slapped John once. And then started crying. No wonder John is so emotional – he has his mother’s genes.

 

So... I hate Mycroft. He saw me put the neighbour’s cat on fire once again, so he told Ma they need to punish me somehow. The neighbour is mad at me. I believe she even told Ma that she needs to look better after me because I’m getting ‘crazier’ with the years. She told her I’m a _psychopath_ and that I need some friends: to get me out of my boredom and to play with them, just like a normal 7-year-old should. She doesn’t know what a _psychopath_ means, I think. Burning her cat is not a _psychopathic_ symptom.

 

_I’m not a psychopath. I’m a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research, Mrs Pebble._

Just saying. I know you won’t.

 

And so Mycroft and Mummy told me to stop doing all those stupid things to the poor kittens and to find some other area for experimenting. So I did.

 

In England there’s no snow. At all. Well, apparently there is some... sometimes. And then all the media, the politicians, the households freak out. For about three inches of snow cover.

 

So, I’ve spent the night out there, in the snow. Well, ‘snow’ is a bit over-exaggerated, I guess, but still... It was _freezing_. And Mycroft saw me twice through the window but just smirked at me – like the selfish dork he is – and went back to his warm bed. Disgusting Mycroft.

 

Well, I admit I’m a bit stubborn sometimes but... only stubbornness gets me through my experiments. Poor you all – you’ll never know what it is like.

 

_Achooo!_

I hate sneezing. Ma says it’s the sign of me getting sick but it’s just outrageous. I prefer having a high temperature or coughing, or even nose-bleeding. All of them are dramatic. Sneezing is... for the losers. Snots everywhere. Ew.

 

Wait! That’s John! He’s here!

 

C’mon, bed, don’t crack! I don’t want them to hear that I am awake. Silent... Bed, be silent, for God’s sake!

 

‘Is he sick?’

 

No, John, I’m... _achooo_... Not. I’m perfectly fine, John. Really,.. _achooo!_.. John.

 

‘Well, we’ve forbidden him to do any experiments on the cat, so he stayed all night in the snow to see how the freezing process works on him.’

 

Not really. Anyways, I’m still mad at you. You knew it was freezing! You, bloody... awful Mycroft!

 

‘Don’t worry. It’s not serious. You can see him.’

 

No, he can’t. He can’t, Mycroft. Tell him I’m dying; I’m dead. I don’t want John to see me like that – he’ll think I’m weak. No.

 

_Crack._

Fine. I’m dead.

 

_Stay motionless, Sherlock. Don’t move. Don’t speak. Don’t breathe. Just lay still._

‘Just keep in mind his talk doesn’t make a lot of sense.’

 

‘No problem, Mycroft. Thank you for letting me in.’

 

_Crack._

 

John is in the room – I can feel him. He is standing there, not too far from my bed, still and steady. I can feel his gaze over me. I bet I look like a giant snail right now – sheets all over me.

 

He approaches the bed. Oh, John! Always smelling so nice – of fresh washing.

 

‘Sherlock?’

 

Silence. Should I tell him something? Shall I speak?

 

‘Sherlock?’

 

‘Nope. I’m a cat.’

 

_You are officially the dumbest person on this entire – whatever its name is – universe, Sherlock. Accept that._

‘A cat?’

 

Silence. _My talk doesn’t make a lot of sense_. That’s my excuse now, I guess.

 

John comes even closer. I can feel his small fingers touching the linen. He jumps on the bed – his small feet hanging from it.

 

‘A pretty stubborn kitten, I shall say.’

 

He chuckles. I hate when he does this cute little laughter of his – like a baby delightfully playing with its stupid plush toy.

 

He sits on his knees and puts his palm on my waist. The aroma of fresh washing is so sensible now, that I think that I’ll... _achoooo!_ Well, yes, I did it.

 

An awkward silence around the room. His hand is still on my waist. He pats it, and then starts caressing my whole body. Right. If till now I did not have a relatively high temperature, now I think I’m the next Sahara.

 

He puts his left hand on my head and his small fingers brush my hair. I can feel he has a bit of a struggle taking them out – Mummy always tells me my curls are too thick. He murmurs something under his nose and decides to leave his fingers there, making a small ‘puff’-noise come out of his mouth.

 

‘Nyaaa...’

 

The strangest sound I’ve ever made. Don’t know how this happened. Was it even me?

 

Silence. _John! John, say something! Do something!_

Right. He’s probably laughing at me now. I’m the greatest idiot in the world.

 

John coughs, clearing his throat. He pats me once again with his right hand; his left still stuck into my curls.

 

‘ _Soft kitty, warm kitty, little ball of fur! Happy kitty, sleepy kitty...’_

‘Purr, purr, purrrrrrrrrrrr...’

 

He chuckles and repeats the song once again. Right. I’m such darn imbecile right now. Though, I guess Mrs Pebble was right after all – I needed a friend as dumb as I am, in order to feel... well, more human.

 

_Achooo!_

‘Sherlock?’

 

‘Yes, John?’

 

‘You’re awake, aren’t you?’

 

‘Yes, John.’

 

‘Good. That’s good.’

 

I open my eyes, just to see him blushing. He manages to take his hand out of my hair. Puts his both hands on his knees. Awkward situation, I have to admit that.

 

‘Sherlock?’

 

‘Yes, John?’

 

‘When I have temperature and I’m – you know – sick... Mummy takes all my clothes off and covers me with wet bed sheets.’

 

‘Why do you say this, John?’

 

Silence again. He looks at me with the blankest face possible.

 

‘Are you wearing any pants?’

 

‘No.’

 

‘Okay.’

 

That’s it. He starts chuckling and giggling – and it’s the cutest laughter ever. I can’t help but laugh along with him.

 

Mycroft enters the room with the biggest frown on his face.

 

‘I believe everything is ok... Am I right, John?’

 

John nods, still giggling. I’m dead serious.

 

Mycroft leaves the room, looking at both of us suspiciously.

 

‘I’ll come later then – we need to check your temperature, Sherlock.’

 

John nods instead of me. We both wait for the door to be closed.

 

‘Sherlock?’

 

I look from under the sheets.

 

‘Have you ever done an experiment on a hedgehog?’

 

‘No, John. Why?’

 

‘Well, I’ve seen one in our garden today. I can give it to you.’

 

I nod.

 

‘But, Sherlock?’

 

‘Yes, John.’

 

‘Please, don’t put it on fire. Because then I’ll have to pretend I’m a hedgehog. And it’ll be a pity for you to caress my hair.’

 

We both burst out giggling.

 

Oh, John! I forgot about my cold already. You’ll be the best doctor ever, I swear! And probably the best hedgehog. _Wouldn’t miss this for the world._


End file.
